


Declarations: The Prequel

by thebrightestbird



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 Times Fic, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:38:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrightestbird/pseuds/thebrightestbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve tries to tell Bucky he’s in love with him.</p>
<p>A prequel to my fic Declarations, in which Bucky declares his love for Steve. That story is attached to the end of this story, because what’s a 5 times fic without a +1?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations: The Prequel

1.

This is it. The night Steve is finally going to tell Bucky how he really feels.

Steve’s in the kitchen getting the napkins and trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach. He’s been planning this dinner for a week. Nothing too over the top, but pork sirloin’s the main dish, and he even lit some candles and bothered with a tablecloth. 

While fussing with wine selection, he hears a shout and something else from the dining room. Steve rushes in to find Bucky holding a fire extinguisher still aimed for the table he just blasted.

“Steve, what the hell? I thought there was a fire!”

At first, Steve doesn’t register Bucky’s words because his slow-cooked, well-marinated meal is covered in a foamy mess.

“Steve, buddy,” Bucky starts, then just aims the extinguisher at him.

Steve finally looks up and rolls his eyes. “I guess you’re getting take-out because dinner’s a wash.”

“Aha, funny guy,” Bucky responds. “Really, what’s with the fancy setup? Since when do we even use this table? And Steve, most importantly, the candles. I count like 10 candles. Is it my birthday? Did I forget my birthday again?”

Oh, yeah. Steve is so occupied with the mess that he’s forgotten the point of the dinner. He doesn’t know what to say, and Bucky looks like he still might blast him with the extinguisher if Steve doesn’t answer him.

“I was trying to save on electricity,” Steve answers, and wow, was that lame.

“Save on electricity?” Bucky’s not buying it. “By using fancy candles? Fancy  _scented_  candles. Steve, it smells like cherry blossoms in here!”

“Your favorite.”

“I don’t have a favorite scented candle.”

“Sure, like you don’t have a favorite brand of shampoo. And conditioner.”

“My hair’s longer. It needs special attention. Now, back to the point. You’re saying that you lit a bunch of candles for dinner to save on electricity. Is that right?”

“Every penny counts.” Steve’s shooting for moral responsibility. That always frustrates Bucky.

“This ain’t the 1930s, pal. We’re not hurting for food or shelter anymore. Lucky for you, the superhero business is booming in the 21st century. Lucky for me too because I get to be your kept man until SHIELD figures out what to do with me.”

Steve hates that Bucky’s in limbo until the psychiatrists clear him for active duty. He hates even more that Bucky feels this obligation to work for Fury as some form of penance for his past.

But that’s another issue for another time. Right now, Steve’s nowhere close to getting out of telling Bucky the real reason for the candles and dinner. So he opts for a partial truth.

“It’s been a year since I got you back.”

It’s why Steve chose tonight to be the time to tell Bucky how grateful he is to have his best friend back in his life. Because before Bucky came back to him, this new time was nothing but some crazy dream. Because before Bucky came back to him, Steve always felt wounded even when everything visible healed from whatever villain he was fighting. Because before Bucky came back to him, Steve would just miss him and miss him. Without end.

Bucky stares at Steve in that sad and fond way he does these days. “I’ll go order some Chinese food.”  He finally sets the fire extinguisher down on the floor. “I’ll remember to ask for white rice this time.”

Bucky goes into the living room, leaving Steve with his material and emotional mess.

2.

Sharon can’t breathe. She can’t breathe because she’s laughing too hard. At Steve.

“He fucking blasted a fire extinguisher at your dinner!” More laughter. “And after seeing the entire setup still didn’t get what you were doing?” Steve swears he hears a “dumbass” squeak through.

“Sharon, really. Some support here. Comfort, at least. You know what? Apathy. Just don’t care if you’re gonna laugh at my pain.”

Sharon starts settling down, although she can tell Steve’s being dramatic. She cares. And she knows he knows that she cares. (And that makes total sense. Don’t question it.)

“I just don’t know why it’s taking you so long to tell him how you feel. I mean, I know that night held special meaning, but don’t you think you two have waited long enough?”

God, it has been so long. Decades and death and sleep and blood. It’s so much. Too much, maybe.

“Well, you rejected me. What’s to stop him?”

“Fear of rejection? That’s your excuse?”

“ … Yeah?”

“No, it’s not. But I’ll humor you.” Sharon takes a sip of her venti Americano with half and half. She gets it because it’s called Americano, and that amuses her. “Steve, I love you so damn much.”

She’s looking straight into his eyes. She’s so brave, and Steve’s heart swells and pounds.

“I love you,” she repeats, “but you love me more. And that’s not fair.”

“I’ll always respond the same way, Sharon.” They’ve had this talk before. It doesn’t hurt any less. “You can’t measure love like that.” (The first time they had this discussion, Steve said that with a lot more anger and tears. He’s okay now. He resigned to her decision a while ago. It’s Sharon’s wish. Her will.)

“Sure, you can. It’s not obvious with the unbalanced couples. But when the two are right for each other, there’s no mistaking the kind of love shared. The give and take. The push and pull. All of the clichés about completing each other are true.”

She pauses and looks at the table at the corner of SHIELD’s mess hall. Bucky’s sitting with Natasha and Clint for lunch. “What you feel for Barnes isn’t some low-smoldering flame, right?”

Steve shakes his head and takes a look at Bucky at the table.

“Bucky’s torch for you is as bright as sunlight. He’s a really guarded guy, for understandable reasons, but with you … it’s like he can’t keep his feelings in check, and so he doesn’t bother trying to hide them.” She taps her left shoulder. “That’s no heart with ‘Steve’ written in cursive on it, but it might as well be.”

Steve can only smile. A big, dopey smile.

“Now, you grow a second pair of balls and go over to the super-assassins table, interrupt their bullets and books meeting, and grab Bucky to tell him how you feel.”

She manages to shove his chair back from the table with her feet (and, oh, does Steve miss her powerful legs).

“Okay, yeah. I’m going.” He gets up and starts moving in Bucky’s direction. Bucky looks up and sees him coming. Steve doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but Sharon’s right. No more waiting.

Then the emergency alarms go off. Everyone in the mess hall looks down at their smartphones to get their instructions.

_AVENGERS ASSEMBLE._

Steve and Bucky give each other one last look, communicate with eyebrows and nods ( _be careful, you too, don’t do stupid stuff, it was just that one time_ ).

And they’re off in separate directions.

3.

“Steve, Steve. Hey, pal—Steve, wake up!”

Steve can’t seem to muster the strength to crack an eyelid. The world is buzzing, and he’s lying on something very unforgiving.

“Steve, come on. Wake up. We need you.”

Coming from Bucky, those words paint a picture of something pretty severe.

“… Mhrrr,” Steve breath/wheezes. It’s a start. Give him a minute.

He finally opens his eyes and sure enough Bucky’s right in his face. “Oh, thank God,” Bucky says.

“What’s going on?” Steve finally manages to ask. “Why do I feel like the Hulk sat on me?”

“Not sat on so much as you were clutched to his bosom.” That would be Tony chiming in, and oh, right, he was with the team before the lights went out in his brain.

“Steve, what do you remember?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s sitting up on the hard thing he was lying on (it’s a strange-looking sort of bench) and rubs his eyes. “We were all in Central Park. Some guy was spinning around, I don’t know, it looked like a gigantic leaf blower. We were in formation around him, then the leaf blower thing passes all of us. Then nothing. Just waking up here.”

Steve realizes he hasn’t even looked to figure out where “here” is yet. It still looks like Central Park. But not. The trees are fewer, along with the grass. The benches, like the one he’s on, aren’t bench-like at all. They’re solid blocks of metal with the barest hint of curve and not enough upward form for back support. The buildings around the park look mostly the same, but he can’t really tell because it’s dusk.

Bucky places a hand on his cheek and turns his head to face him. “What I’m about to tell you might very well be too much even for you.”

“Buck, just spit it out.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, places the other hand on Steve’s other cheek, looks him straight in the eyes, and says in a rush, “Steve, this is the future. You just woke up in the future. Again.”

Steve’s no ordinary man, which is how he was able to wake up 70 years after being in a deep freeze, look at 21st century Times Square, and not go insane.

But twice?

Bucky’s still holding Steve’s head and staring in his eyes. “Hey, Steve,” he says softly. “You still with me, pal?”

Steve focuses on the feel of Bucky’s hands on his face. The cool slickness of the one on his right cheek, the warm, calloused one on his left, lightly scratching with the little back-and-forth his thumb is doing. He scans Bucky’s face, his hair’s long fringes frame his eyes, his brow’s furrowed in concern. His lips are jutting out a bit, holding a breath.

He’s alive. In the future. With Bucky. Again. It’s all crazy but very telling of how Bucky and Steve seem to be so valuable to this world. The fact that they keep showing up in different times  _together_  is also very telling.

Steve wants to say the words at that moment.  _I love you. We were meant to love each other. Circumstances and our idiocy tear us apart, but time keeps stitching us back together._

But Clint clears his throat, and Steve remembers that this isn’t the time for such confessions. He just nods in Bucky’s hands. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m okay. I’m here.”

Bucky bumps their foreheads together and stays that way for a minute.  Then he turns to Tony and Bruce. “I’ll let Egghead One,” pointing to Tony, “and Egghead Two,” pointing to Bruce, “explain.”

“Finally,” Tony says, “the time-travel talk. Well, folks, when a mad scientist and a leaf blower love each other very much …”

“Stop, hold it,” Bucky interrupts. “Changed my mind. Dr. Banner is Egghead One. Stark, you’re Egghead Two.”

That puts a smile on Bruce’s face. Tony, of course, is wounded.

“What? Why? Why am I Egghead Two all of the sudden?”

“I like Bruce better,” Bucky answers.

“Oh, whatever. Everyone likes Bruce better. I’m pretty sure Pepper’s planning our three-way wedding.”

Bruce rolls his eyes (but doesn’t deny his likability). “What Tony, I believe, was starting to say was that the guy we encountered invented a device capable of opening a quantum tunnel – an actual time portal. The device created it by sweeping up the atmosphere, hence its funky leaf blower design. The guy lost control of it though as it was passing by you, Steve, and unfortunately smacked you right in the head. We all got swept up in it, and while I was the Other Guy, I managed to grab you as everyone zoomed through the tunnel.”

“Sorry I missed it,” Steve says while rubbing the side of his head. “What was it like?”

“Like being a newborn yanked through the birth canal,” Tony answers.

Steve winces and looks to Bucky for confirmation.

Bucky shrugs. “He’s not wrong. It was a tight squeeze. And Barton  _was_  crying once it was over.”

Clint points the arrow he’s playing with at Bucky. “Shut it, Barnes. I only cry over Pixar movies.”

“Wait, we all got sucked in,” Steve says. “What about the scientist guy?”

“Behind me, Captain.” Thor steps aside to reveal a man on the ground, tied to a light pole, and gagged for good measure.

Thor bends down to remove the gag. “Bite me again, and the consequences will be most severe. The hammer is not for show.” He looks thoughtfully for a moment at mjolnir. “Although, it very much adds to my fierce stature and handsome countenance.”

Natasha nods in agreement.

Steve stands in front of the man. “All right, talk. Start by how we get back to our time. We’ll deal with your reasons for doing all of this when we have you locked up at headquarters.”

“But Captain, don’t you want to hear my sad tale of how I needed to create a time portal because my dad didn’t love me enough?”

Tony, Bruce and Thor give full-throated  _no’s_.

“Widow, persuade him to talk.”

Steve steps away to allow Natasha room to crouch. “Hello, Supervillain of the Week. Comfortable?”

“I’m bound to a light pole.”

“Well, we all have our problems. As I recall, you mentioned some daddy issues. But you didn’t mention you mother. How is she?”

“Why are you bringing up my mother?”

“I’m curious. Is she in good health?”

“She’s, well, uh …”

“I’ll tell you how she is. She’s not well. She’s not well at all. Because she’s dead.”

“What? No, she’s not. She’s in a retirement home upstate.”

“No, she’s dead. You want to know how I know?”

The villain nods vigorously.

“Because we are in the future. Mommy is long gone. She died in a retirement home upstate without ever knowing what happened to her beloved son. Her son abandoned her. You abandoned your elderly mother.”

The team all stare at Natasha with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Using mothers in interrogation situations is extreme, even for her.

The supervillain scientist guy is crying now. Thor even sheds a tear.

“Oh, God! I’m her only son!”

Natasha lamely pats him on the head. “Yes, you being her only son is definitely sad given what I’ve witnessed of you in these circumstances. Why don’t you just tell us how to operate the leaf blower so you can get back to her, okay?”

He tells them the code to get the machine working again. Steve grabs Bucky’s hand before they all get sucked through the time portal. He trusts that time won’t separate them again, but why tempt her?

4.

Steve doesn’t run from anything. That’s not how he does things. But when confronted by the sight of his best friend dressed to the nines, all slicked back hair and charm, well, he wants to turn tail and run as far away as possible.

Bucky’s at a table with Clint, holding a tumbler while gesturing in an arc with his cybernetic hand. Clint’s mesmerized.

The archer is stupid in love with Natasha, but tonight, at that table, at Stark Industries’ gala for New York’s firefighters, Clint Barton is a little smitten with the other man.

Steve can’t blame him. It’s a beautiful ballroom, everyone’s healthy for once and out of uniform. The alcoholic beverages are on Iron Man, and the party’s just getting started. There is no job, no world in need of saving. Without these things to weigh a hero down, anything seems possible.

Things like finally telling your best friend that you’re in love with him. It has to be tonight because Steve is really tired of villains and his own awkwardness getting in the way of telling Bucky how he feels.

Luckily, Bucky seems to be unknowingly on board with his plans. “Hey, Steve! Get over here already. You’re gonna help me win a bet.”

Steve straightens up his posture, takes a deep breath, checks his tie, and walks to what his brain has so cleverly dubbed “The Master Assassin Sniper Table Bro Club.” Steve smirks at his internal lameness, and it helps make him look more at ease once he reaches the two men.

“So, what’s the bet?”

“Well, bird-brain over here doesn’t believe I had the skills back in the day to handle your shield. I was telling him about my time playing decoy during the war.”

Steve never liked giving Bucky decoy duty, but the advantage to wearing a spangled outfit and carrying a shiny shield on a 20th century battlefield was that you captured most of the attention, thus allowing the Howling Commandos and other troops the use of surprise. Unfortunately, when the boys needed a little something extra, such as Steve’s brand of super-soldier skills, someone else had to appear to be Captain America. That meant decoy duty. And Bucky always volunteered.

“You never threw it, Buck. Stop implying you did.”

“Aha! I knew it,” Clint’s quick to respond. “There’s no way you were knocking down six Hydra guards with one throw.”

“No one said nothin’ about me  _throwing_  the shield. I just said I handled it.” Bucky knocks back the rest of his drink and points the glass at Clint. “You inferred the rest.”

Amused and finally somewhat at ease among the bustle of the party, Steve lets his fondness for Bucky creep into his voice. “So, Bucky, how did Clint come to such conclusions?  Maybe you left some important details out?”

Bucky is all fake indignation. “Rogers, please. I’m the most honest guy at this table.” He waits a beat. “Well, the most honest guy who’s not a blond.” The eye-rolls could practically be heard, but Bucky soldiers on. “I was impressive.”

“You were, you were,” Steve says with indulgence. “But not by throwing the shield.”

He turns to Clint. “While the guards were distracted, I managed to leap the fence and plant the first of the explosives. I sabotaged part of the fence too, so Dernier could finish the job. I get back out, and Bucky is being approached by six guys who decided to have a little fun with Captain America instead of outright shooting him. The explosives are about to go off. He smacks the closest two with the shield, and they domino down to the ground. Then he runs right on top of them and away from the gates just in time for the fireworks.”

Clint’s all awestruck teenage girl, gaping in wonder. “Okay, Barnes. That is definitely impressive,” Clint says, and Bucky practically preens, “but you still never threw it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I  _handled_  it, just like I said. So, I win.”

“What’s Clint got to do?”

“He gets to tell Nat about us breaking her vase.”

“ _You_  broke the vase, Barnes.  _You_  threw the peanut butter jar.”

“And  _you_  didn’t catch it,” Bucky says. “So,  _we_  broke it.”

Bucky seems quite serious in his logic, and Clint’s about to respond when Steve realizes something. “Is this the vase with the Japanese peace lily? Clint, I know for a fact that’s the one thing Natasha actually expects you to take care of when she’s away. Hell,  _I’m_  responsible for it when you’re both away together.”

“Uh, yeah. That’d be the one,” Clint says, shame-faced. “Which is exactly why Barnes needs to be there too to tell her. I’m not stupid enough to face an angry Natasha alone.”

“What? You think having one more person to be mad at will thin out her anger? Wouldn’t do you any good, Barton. Natasha can never stay mad at me. I’m her Bucky Bear.”

Clint bristles at that. “I’m her partner. How is it that you get the cute nickname?”

Bucky looks at the empty glass still in his hand and lifts a corner of his mouth in a fond smile.

“Right, yeah. Soviet sweethearts,” Clint says. “Mutual love of vodka and Cold War weaponry.”

Steve breaks into the exchange. “Did you two at least move the plant to another container?” The men respond with a sharp  _yes._

“We don’t have death wishes,” Clint says. “Luckily, I have a few more days until I have to tell her.”

“What do you mean? Natasha’s here. I saw her with Agent Hill at one of the bars.”

Clint looks like Steve just said Christmas was now a twice-a-year thing. “She’s here? But that operation in Ecuador was supposed to take three weeks?”

Bucky shrugs at that. “It’s Nat. She hates hot weather. She wouldn’t stay that long that close to the equator if she could help it.”

Clint scans the room. “Which bar again?” Steve points in the direction. “Well, gentlemen, I need to be someplace that doesn’t have fiery-haired Russian women with super-kill skills.”

Despite his words, Clint goes directly to the bar Steve had pointed.

“He misses her,” Steve says.

“Always” is Bucky’s response, quietly with his eyes gazing down at the glass again.

Bucky stays quiet, probably replaying something in his mind. But a melancholic Bucky won’t do tonight, so Steve breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Why Bucky Bear, anyway?” Steve asks. “She only ever calls you James.”

“She likes it. Those first nights I was in SHIELD custody, she would come talk to me. She said when she first found out who I really was and that I went by Bucky, she laughed until she cried. It was the most American name she had ever heard. She thought it suited the rebellious man she knew back then.

“As for the bear part,” Bucky continues, “that’s just a reference to the time I fought a bear bare-handed. And won.”

Bucky’s not looking at Steve when he says this, but Steve’s definitely staring a hole into Bucky.

“You fought a bear?” Steve says a bit too loudly. Then after a moment he adds (probably still a little loud): “ _Bare-handed?_ ”

Bucky’s still not looking at him, but the bastard gives him a smirk.

“I’m not sure whether to groan at your play on words or your crazy imagination.”

Bucky looks at him then, smirk still in place, adding an eyebrow lift to it.

“Oh, my God. You’re not kidding.” Steve’s about to grill him on the matter because Bucky fought a damn  _bear,_  and Steve justly has questions (such as what kind of bear?) when the slower party music kicks in. It reminds him of his main purpose with Bucky. He’s let himself get distracted. It’s time to get back to tonight’s mission.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve starts, “would you like to dance?”

Bucky looks up at Steve with wide blue eyes. He opens his mouth, probably with a snarky comment on his tongue, but Steve has his most earnest face in place. Bucky snaps his mouth closed – and nods a yes.

Steve’s ability to dance is no longer an issue with love interests. He made sure to get lessons within his first few months out of the ice. It was his way of honoring his date with Peggy.

Bucky, on the other hand, is quite rusty. He could track a target through the densest jungle as if he was a whisper in the dark, but he’s become clumsy with situations that require intimate proximity. He still has his bravado though, and he does an amusing job covering up his two left feet.

“Why don’t we get out of here,” Bucky suggests in Steve’s ear. “Go back to the apartment.”

Wait a minute. Is Bucky trying to be sexy? His right hand’s wrapped on the side of Steve’s neck. His thumb is stroking the corner of his jaw. Steve’s getting his hopes up. And not just that Bucky will be the first to admit the feelings they’ve both been bottling up over the years.

Feelings are great and all. But he also might get sex.

“What did you have in mind?” Steve asks (sexily, he hopes).

They’re so close to each other. Steve would have to dip just slightly for a kiss. He wouldn’t do it with a crash of mouths. He always imagined starting the kiss with a teasing, soft brush of lips.

Steve’s not hiding his interest in Bucky’s mouth. Steve’s hands are stroking Bucky’s sides in slow, up-and-down movements.

They’re so close to each other. And Bucky’s response …

“On second thought, I think I’ll go back home alone. Stark and the others probably still need your pretty face around to drum up more donations.”

… is retreat.   

5.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I —”

“Need you to give me more time.”

And that’s how Steve’s fifth attempt ended – with a gentle plea from Bucky to leave him alone for now. A declaration of love in its own way.

+1

Steve does as Bucky asks. He gives him time.

Summer arrives, and Steve senses that the season is right for him to once again try to confess how he feels about Bucky.

He has this coming Saturday all planned out. They’ll go to the Mets game, then get dinner at that new Asian fusion restaurant with the great kim-chi barbecue chili, then come back to the apartment for ice cream (because they will need it after eating kim-chi barbecue chili).

And if his cell phone goes off at that moment, and Fury is on the other end telling him Dr. Doom has made a weapon turning goats into deadly projectiles and that this isn’t only dangerous to humanity but would seriously diminish the precious goat population, Steve will calmly inform Fury that it is his night off. Call Tony. He’s the weapons expert.

Nothing and no one is going to ruin his plan to tell Bucky he’s in love with him.

Except Bucky, of course, who beats him to it one quiet Wednesday afternoon …

**Bucky**

"So, " Bucky starts with the greatest of articulation, "I’m in love with you."

Steve’s been sitting at the kitchen table, drawing his hand for the millionth time. Bucky’s heard that drawing hands is some of the most complex, beautiful work an artist can do.  But really, Steve’s had that super-soldier hand for a good few years now. It’s not changing anytime soon. Then again, Bucky’s one to talk about hands – or whole limbs for that matter.

Steve’s pencil stills and Bucky hadn’t realized how much the scratch against paper was filling the room, lulling Bucky into soft serenity.

Steve’s not moving. His shoulders are rising and falling in a little more pronounced way. Heavy, deep breaths. Then his pencil snaps.

Oh, God.  Bucky’s broken him. He knew it would happen eventually. He just thought, you know, it’d happen in a more violent fashion. A bullet from his sniper rifle ricocheting, an ill-placed boot to the groin during training, finally punching Tony Stark in his smug arc reactor and blowing them all to kingdom come after the 200th crack about freezer burn affecting manhoods.

But a declaration of love? That’s just sad, and making this whole confession a little less joyful than Bucky had imagined.  Truth be told, he had this awesome, way sexier version of how all of this would play out. Steve would give him that face-busting smile of his and practically leap over the table to get to Bucky. Their clothes would conveniently be torn off on their way to the couch, where Steve would pin Bucky down for a smothering kiss that would have him panting with the taste of Steve in his mouth. The press of Steve’s body on his – covered head to toe by perfect, safe heat – banishing the forever winter of Bucky’s body.

Steve’s still not moving, and Steve’s still breathing hard, and Bucky’s weighing his options at this point. Laughing it off seems the best option.  _Heh, Steve. I’m just kidding. My sense of humor isn’t what it used to be since the brainwashing. I thought the second “Hangover” movie was hilarious, so that should be proof enough._

No, Bucky would never claim that movie was funny, not even to save face with Steve.

He could create a distraction. Start shooting random shit and say he thought he saw that freaky Peter Parker kid climbing through their window to steal their eggs again. What was up with that, anyway? You’d think all his aunt knew how to cook was eggs.

That’s a no-go, though. All of his weapons are locked up. Stupid, inconvenient safety precautions.

Bucky’s just about desperate enough to get out of this situation by flailing his metal arm, claiming latent Russian panic triggers, and bolt for the door, when Steve finally gets up from the table.

Bucky can’t look at him, he’s so nervous. He just keeps looking at his hands. Then he sees Steve’s hands cover them. One hand on flesh and blood, the other on dull metal. Steve’s kneeling at Bucky’s chair, but he hunches some to get his face in Bucky’s because he still refuses to look up. His heart is hammering. What if this is the gentle letdown?

"Bucky," Steve butts his head lightly against Bucky’s forehead. "You jerk." Bucky finally looks up at that because since when has confessing feelings made a person a jerk? “I had this whole day planned for Saturday. We were gonna go to a ballgame, then get dinner at that new Asian fusion place down a few blocks, then come back to the apartment for ice cream. Then I was gonna say this thing about partners and family and how feelings can change and grow. And here we have this incredible second chance in the future and we shouldn’t waste it …"

And Bucky just listens to Steve ramble because: 1. He’s flustered and adorable; and 2. Bucky is actually fucking speechless. But then his mouth finally catches up to his brain.

“Asian fusion, Steve?”

“Bucky, you really need to expand your diet beyond burgers and sandwiches …”  And Steve’s not saying much else because Bucky’s kissing him with raw intensity.

Through most of their history, Bucky can’t honestly say whether he pictured this ever happening between him and his best friend. Growing up, there were other concerns for two orphans. Once they were well and truly on their own, they had to figure out survival. But love probably would have been a natural progression for them if war and death hadn’t torn that bit of normalcy away.

Steve’s right, though. They have a second chance, and Bucky has always been one for taking chances.

He breaks the kiss. “I love you, pal.”

-|-|-

They’ve got a good make-out session going. Bucky’s hands are roaming under one of Steve’s fantastically tight T-shirts and one of Steve’s hands is going places Bucky desperately wants it to go, but he would prefer their first intimate moments be in the comfort of Steve’s outrageously large bed (Bucky’s a romantic like that).

Then a loud thump on the fire escape interrupts them. The friends look at each other for a second, then at the fire escape window.

“It’s that freaky Parker kid.”

“Bucky, he’s had a tough time lately. Give him a break.” Steve’s being his usual selfless self, but Bucky can sense his agitation. Also Steve’s not being too subtle about looking at his shield. “Bucky …”

“You grab the shield, Steve. I’ll get the tranquilizer gun.”


End file.
